


From the Dining Table

by alivealivealive



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Harry Styles - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mages, Marriage, Post-Canon, Simon is a doctor, cheating but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-04 22:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16355690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alivealivealive/pseuds/alivealivealive
Summary: "Why won't you ever be the first one to break?"Set in 8 years post Canon. In which they're married and happy (still mages) but Simon goes on a work trip and baz thinks he cheated on him. Angsty.Also, this is inspired on Harry Styles's song "From the Dinning Table" and Simon is a doctor because I couldn't stop picturing him as one. They also use Instagram and text a bit.





	1. We haven't spoken since you went away

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!  
> This is my first ever fanfic, so if you have some suggestions on how I can improve, I will appreciate them a lot<3 Most of it is written, so I'll try and upload them soon!!!  
> Also, these characters obviously belong to the beautiful and talented Rainbow Rowell.
> 
> -MP

_Baz_

2 years of marriage. 8 years together. I can’t seem to find it in me to believe that Simon (I call him that much more often now that we’ve been together for a while) (or at least since we got married) and I have been going strong for this long, because to me, it feels like it was just yesterday when we got together during our 8th year at Watford. 

Life has been surprisingly chill since the Mage died, and the Humdrum vanished. Merlin knows the whole situation almost took Simon away from me. As if I was going to let that happen. I stayed through his whole healing process, which included lots of sessions with his therapist, late night crying sessions and a wing and tail removal (I actually opposed to this a lot, but Snow said it would make him get his closure) (Fair enough). Bunce and I also are in very good terms. I actually consider her one of my closest friends now. You don’t go through what we did together (including the Death of the Mage and helping Simon afterwards) and come out being strangers.

It’s just after midnight right now and I’m just lying in bed, scrolling through Facebook on my laptop and drinking a glass of wine. It’s raining a lot and it’s pretty relaxing, to be honest. I let myself close my eyes lazily. Having some time on my own to do dumb stuff like scroll mindlessly on social media and watch bad (I love them) romantic comedies. To not think about the ‘Posh World of Economics’ (as Snow likes to call it) or about the World of Mages. I’m only 26 years old, after all.  
He’s actually in a work Congress right now, all the way in Spain, and I miss him a lot. Crowley, it’s been years since we’ve been apart for more than a couple of days.  
I miss his warm body, his voice, and the little anecdotes he loves to tell me every single day after he comes home from work. It wasn’t such a surprise when it turned out that Simon wanted to go into Medicine. After all, who loved to care about other people, enjoyed knowing how things work and liked to have constant contact with people? Obviously, it had to be my stupid boyfriend and his big ass heart. He actually graduated with very good grades and managed to snatch a spot in the best Hospital in London to study his residence at, where he chose to continue studying to become a paediatrician.  
It’s obviously a lot easier to study and get good grades when you don’t have the weight of the whole Magickal world on your shoulders.  
I remember trying to hold my tears back and failing miserably when a couple of years ago he was receiving his diploma, and he was being called as a Honor Student and in that moment he looked so alive I almost forgot the times I found him in the bathtub, right after the Mage died, with his eyes glassy, not speaking, not crying, just staring. I thought I was dreaming. Even father went to his graduation and gave him a pat on the back and all. Good man.  
His graduation gift to him was a Jaguar which is a bit excessive if you ask me, but Snow does look dashing in his new shiny car. God bless my father and his weird displays of affection. Since the war ended, he doesn’t particularly love him, but he isn’t really hostile to him either. I suppose he ended up accepting the fact that we were going to eventually marry, and he just knew Simon Snow was going to be a constant in his life if he wanted me around.

We got off Facetime a couple of hours ago, when he wanted to show me how (fucking gorgeous) he looked in his black suit, which he was wearing to a charity ball, where he was representing the hospital he is doing his residency in. I wish I had come with him, but honestly, it was only 5 days long, and I didn’t want to ask for a leave in the office because I’m just about to be promoted to a very high position, and we didn’t want to risk my chances by being absent. He was the one who actually wanted me to stay. I still wish I was there, holding his hand, showing him off.

It’s not surprising Simon gets hit on a lot, by pretty much anyone. Mostly, women but there’s been a few guys as well. Since he became a doctor, to my benefit, he dresses all formal when he’s working (which is pretty much all the time) but whenever he’s at home, he goes back to his trackies and old band t-shirts, which mostly belonged to me at some point. He still eats like an animal and slaps butter on his scones like he is getting paid for eating it. I actually kind of really enjoy the fact that only I get to see that side of him, the one his colleagues and patients simply don’t. I see the dribble on his chin when he’s just woken up, his bare feet around the house, him sitting on the floor in one of his old, ratty jumpers, near the fire when it’s really cold out. 

He went away with a few of his colleagues. There’s 9 of them, I think. I don’t mind them at all and I think they’re sort of decent folks, anyway. Except for Dan. He’s this prick who is just on his last year of residency, while Simon is on his first. He’s tall – not as tall as I am, though- and has brown hair and regular looking brown eyes. Not very fit but he isn’t particularly disgusting. He also wears a full brown beard. I hate him.  
I still can’t shake the memory from my mind from the first day where I met him, we were at a Christmas Party organized by the Hospital last year, and of course I wanted to go. It was the first time he was going to introduce me to his colleagues, so I made sure I was looking as dashing as I could. Which Is a lot, by the way. Because I fucking care about everything Snow does, even if it involves being his arm candy. He does just the same. Goes go my functions. He sometimes even drops by my office and everyone there loves him. Typical Snow.

“Dan, this is Baz Pitch, my boyfriend.” Snow said, smiling and placing a hand on my back as he introduced me to him. Snow never mentions we are married if he doesn’t have to. Because it’s kind of complicated in Medicine to be a married Gay man. 

It’s fine by me. Everyone I care about knows already so I don’t really pay a lot of mind to what his colleagues think.

“Nice to meet you”- Dan stretched his arm toward me, and shook my hand, trying -but failing miserably- to give me an intimidating look. He wasn’t going to beat me, Basilton Pitch in an hostility match. I simply squeezed his hand with much more strength that it’s socially acceptable and looked at him. Eyes level, not showing any emotion. 

The whole party, he kept raking his eyes all over Simon’s body and trying to whisper into his ear, placing his arms on my husband’s biceps, and this made me really fucking uncomfortable. Still I tried to play nice because he kind of is Snow’s superior and I didn’t want to affect him. It’s been like this every time I have seen him trying to interact with him.  
Simon is very much oblivious to his effect on everyone, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t notice. He is very charismatic, magnetic. With his regular-looking-blue eyes, golden curls and constellation of moles, he always looks very, very handsome. Lucky me. He’s also fully grown into himself, grew out of his adolescent body and kind of developed a confidence which draws everyone to him.  
I obviously know I look good. (He tells me this all the time). I’ve sort of preserved my lankiness but in a good way. But even though I’ve opened up a little bit more, I’m still very reserved and like to keep to myself, which is why I love my job. I don’t really need to see a million different people a day, mostly I keep to myself and my analytics. We are still very much involved in the world of Mages, by the way. I’m a member of the Coven and Snow got some of his magick back. Obviously he’s not as powerful as he used to be, but he can (verbally) cast a few spells I’ve been trying to reteach him.

I hit refresh one more time on my laptop, just out of boredom and I feel like my eyes are about to pop of their sockets. There’s a notification, and it says Simon SP (as in Snow-Pitch) has been tagged in a photo. If I had blood pumping through my veins, I’m pretty sure It would have run cold by now. It’s a picture uploaded by the Charity Gala’s official page, and it reads “Bid for the Kids Charity Gala – Accompanied by our future paediatricians to-be.” It’s not the caption that rattles me.  
It’s the fact that in the photo, they’re all posing in their suits and long dresses, but Simon is not looking at the camera. He’s looking right at Dan’s eyes, who has his arm wrapped around his waist, holding him fast, and is looking at him, with huge, lovesick puppy eyes. They’re the only ones not looking at the camera and they look very much in love. I feel the urge to catch a fucking plane and be there in a couple of hours, but I tell myself we are adults now. He is coming home tomorrow around noon, anyway. I rub my eyes with the back of my hands and try counting to ten.

I feel a little knot forming in the back of my throat, even though the rational part of me is telling me that this MUST be a misunderstanding. That Simon Snow loves me and wears my ring around his finger. That we have been together since we were pretty much kids and we have our own house. He has never been the type to run away to a business trip and use it as an excuse to cheat.  
I can’t help but realize a few tears are rolling down my cheeks and grab my phone just to call his number. Just to know he is there, that he’ll answer my call and will tell me he misses me. Sadly, this never happens. I call for a total of four times and every single time, his phone goes straight to voicemail. Screw him, then. I can feel my magic boiling inside me and I’m just so angry I decide I’ll drink a bit more and sleep this off. Surely tomorrow, when I pick Simon up from the airport there will be a reasonable explanation.


	2. More of what once was mine

More of what once was mine  
Baz

It’s a Saturday morning and I wake up very early in a bad mood. The bedroom is really cold and I’ve slept so little, I can already feel a headache coming.  
I tried and tried to sleep but inadequate thoughts kept filling my mind. As I laid there, drifiting somewhere between consciousness and sleep, I kept imagining Simon with someone else, kissing him.   
Simon telling me he’s leaving me.

My Simon.

It’s like being at Watford all over again. I haven’t been this unsure about Snow, well… since we kissed that first night. I roll over and grab my phone from the nightstand, hoping to find a few missing calls from him, but there’s none. Just a quick text saying: 

3:23 a.m. SSP : Good night. X See u tomorrow??

I type a quick reply, trying to sound neutral, because really, I don’t know how to go about this.

6:05 a.m. BGP: Sure. 

I go for a run and manage to drain a couple of rabbits, still in the dark of the morning. I try to fill the hours in the morning with a few errands from work, picking up a couple of parcels from the post office and overthinking what’s about to happen.   
I’ve never been the type to start a fight. Snow and I very rarely fight. We bicker a lot, over what we want for dinner, or who gets to park where, who pays this bill and whatnot, but we never fight. I can only remember a couple times I felt like one of us was walking out on the relationship, but obviously, that never happened.

I have always been the jealous one in this relationship, mostly because Simon is pretty oblivious about well, everything. But I swear to Merlin, I’ve never started a fight over something like this. Yes, I have made the occasional possessive comment and whatnot but we’ve never argued about who we should talk to or whatever. We never go thorugh each other’s stuff or anything of the sort. If Snow says someone is a friend from work, that’s fine. I shut up about it and that’s it. Even if I can tell they’re into him, I’d never do anything as reckless and stupid as fighting with him over that. I’m not fifteen anymore, unsure of myself because of my condition. He has shown me countless of times, sometimes even in bed, with a few inappropriate gestures and some more romantic ones, that he’s very much in love with me.

I get into my black SUV and put on some music to try and keep my mind off it, but every time I turn my eyes toward the steering wheel, I see my knuckles are very pale from gripping it hard, and I can literally feel my shoulders all the way to my ears, just from how tense I am. There’s no way he isn’t going to notice the mood I’ve worked myself into. By the time I notice where I am, I’ve miraculously managed to park in the airport.

I get out of the car, and slam the door. Because I just can’t help being so dramatic, and head towards the arrival gates, trying to put a smile on my face. I keep fidgeting with my coat, even if it’s something I never do. Snow always takes forever to get his bags, so it’s not exactly rare that I see a lot of the passengers already coming out of the gates, towards the exit.

I glance down at my phone, and when I look up, I feel like I’ve been slapped. I feel my (dead) heart beating so fast in my chest I want to vomit. 

Dan is strolling casually towards the exit doors, suitcase rolling behind him, wearing some old jeans and an old, worn out Bowie shirt. I recognize it almost immediately. It used to belong to me, back when I was a teenager and was into the whole band t-shirts phase.  
Not that I don’t appreciate that kind of music anymore, I just grew out of showing it.  
I used to wear that a lot when I was at home, not really around Watford. It was one of my favourites. When Simon and I moved in together, one morning we were unpacking and he found this box full of them, marked “DONATE”, but decided they were his to keep. I found it a sweet gesture and he looked kinda hot in them, even if he just wore them to bed. But now, looking at Dan, I can feel hot tears forming behind my eyes. 

My ears are ringing and I feel humiliated as Dan waves at me, flashing me a big smile. He obviously knows the story behind the shirt. I keep my face neutral, I don’t dare move a muscle. If I do, tears might escape my eyes. 

One week away and he gets to have what was once mine. My shirt. Fuck, at this rate, he already probably got to have my husband as well. What else is this supposed to mean? You don’t really share clothes with your boss. Merlin knows I’ve never done this. And I’d never dream of disrespecting Snow like this. 

Just as I’m wiping my eyes discretely with the back of my hands, Simon comes running toward me, all smiles and tanned face. I use my years of training to keep my expression neutral and smile at him.

“Simon” I say, because I can’t find anything else to say right now. 

 

Simon

I come out of the gates, suitcase in hand and see Baz already waiting there. Always punctual, always there for me. I’m yearning for him and all I want to do is have his arms around me. I can tell something is off just by the way he’s standing. His stance isn’t as confident as It normally is, and his jaw is really working to keep something down.

I run toward him, anyway, feeling happier than I have the whole week and tilt my head up to place a small kiss on his lips. 

“I’ve missed you” I say as I grab his hand, because it’s true. 

“So did I, Snow” He mumbles as he looks into my eyes. “How was the flight?” he asks in a flat tone and know something is very wrong. His gray eyes look sort of watery and red around the edges, but I decide not to say anything until we get to the car.

 

He pulls out of the parking spot and turns on the radio, silently. While he hasn’t been hostile, he’s not his usual self today. I put my hand over his knee as he drives and notice he doesn’t place his left hand over mine as he usually does. He keeps them both at the steering wheel, staring ahead.

“What’s wrong, love?” I ask in a small voice, trying (and failing) to sound calm. He can always hear me, though. Super vampire hearing and all.

He ignores my question and glances quickly at me. I notice his eyes linger on my hands. “Simon, where’s your ring?” He asks, still not meeting my gaze. I feel a wave of relief washing through me. Is this what’s bothering him? I chuckle a little and pull the chain I’m wearing over the front of my hoodie, enough so it’s visible to him. 

“I put it on this chain, because I was scared I might-“ but he cuts me off, sounding shaky.

“Were you scared they were going to notice you’re married to me?” He whispers, still looking forward, but I can see his bottom lip shaking. He shifts his leg so it lets my hand fall into the seat.

I literally cannot understand what he’s saying. I stay silent for a good minute and close my eyes, counting to ten slowly. “Love, no offense, but what the fuck?” I say, this time my voice louder. “I thought we had already had this conversation. You know it’s not about who you are. I was afraid I might lose it while I was away” I say as I’m staring at him. I can’t quite grasp what kind of mood he is in. 

He doesn’t reply. He just sighs and keeps driving. He reaches to turn the volume of the radio up, but I’m faster and turn it all the way down. Baz snorts and we just stay in silence the rest of the way home, but I can see the corners of his mouth go up as I unclasp my necklace, take my platinum ring out of it, put the chain in my jeans pocket, and slide the ring right into my fourth finger, on my left hand. 

Whatever I thought I was going to find once I got home, was certainly not this. I was thinking more of a Chinese takeout dinner and a sloppy, heated, couch makeout session. I have no bloody idea what has gotten in his head, but I can tell he’s waiting until we get home to really talk about this.

 

Baz 

I feel like I’m overreacting.

I feel like fighting over this is a bad idea for a multitude of reasons. First, he doesn’t seem nervous or off. I can always tell when Snow is lying. He’s terrible at it. He’s not lying today, though.

But every time I close my eyes, I keep picturing Dan’s arms around him. Over and over again. We get home and I help him get his bags inside. I shut the door and we stand just behind the door, awkwardly. 

So, naturally, I do the only thing I can think of. 

“Did you have fun last night?” I snap, with as much malice as I can muster into that phrase. I wait for a response, lowering my gaze to meet his.

Snow kind of blushes and looks at me with a very confused expression. “Baz, it was okay. I had a couple of drinks and went back to my room.” I can tell he still doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

I take out my mobile and show him a screen shot of the very same picture I saw last night. Of course, I kept it. How else could I torture myself, anyway?

“LL-Lo-Love, this isn’t what this looks like?” Simon says, his blue eyes looking into mine, already filling with tears. He tries to take my hand but I’m really not thinking and I just walk backwards, toward the kitchen. “It looks really bad, Baz, but I barely even saw Dan last night” 

I know I should listen to him. But I’ve somehow convinced myself that whatever he is saying, is not true. “Yeah, I bet you weren’t there while you gave him my old t-shirt” I say, as I cross my arms around my chest and lean against the wall. He doesn’t reply. “Is this why you didn’t want me to go with you?” I challenge him, looking at the floor.

I hear a sniffling sound, and look up and notice Simon’s tears are rolling down his cheeks now and I want nothing more but to wrap my arms around him, but his silence is making me feel betrayed.

I suppose I could use some time away. To work things out. I certainly don’t want to hurt him, but I need to make my mind up about this whole situation.

“Babe, he went to my room this morning. Said he forgot to bring something to travel in and I-I thought-“ Simon mumbles, looking hurt and rubbing his face with his sleeves, walking toward me but I just can’t touch him right now.

My hands are curled in fists and I’m torn between dropping this, like I know I should or keep pushing it, just to know the truth.

“Snow just-“ I’m about to say I need some time to clear my mind when his phone rings.

 

“Yes?” he snaps into the phone, sounding shaky. Before he even says it, I can tell he has to go to work by the way his posture changes. “Yes, I can. I’ll be there in half an hour”, he continues into his phone. 

Somehow this only manages to irritate me even more, even though I know I’m being unreasonable and a brat. I turn my back around and head towards the bedroom.

He comes in just as I’m about to sit down at the desk. “Baz, please. Could you just try to listen? I’ll be back later. There’s been an emergency.” 

I give him a long look, coating my face with an expression I haven’t directed at him for years. Indifference. “Sure.” I can smell his magic right from where I’m standing. The smell is not as strong as it used to be, but it still manages to leak whenever he’s very emotional or angry. 

I know he’s looking right through my bullshit but I can’t help to try and mask my feelings. I don’t care. I already have a plan, and right now, I’m just waiting for him to leave. 

Snow opens the closet door, and right there, strips to his underwear and changes into a clean pair of blue scrubs. They really do bring out his blue eyes. But right now, I just turn around and look at my phone, trying to look busy. 

He turns back toward me and tries to kiss me goodbye but I just look at him and shake my head. Apparently, Simon doesn’t care because he still plants a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be back, love” he says against my hair as he takes my hand and squeezes it a little. I can’t help but let my eyes close as his lips touch my warm skin. The whole thing is very awkward and sad and it ends up feeling much more significant than “I’ll see you later. “More like a final goodbye.

I stay sitting there, crying a little bit, and wait until I hear his car engine roaring to life. I cry until I remember who I am. Basilton Pitch doesn’t get cheated on and stays to hear excuses. 

Once he’s gone, I take out my leather duffel and fill it with a few changes of clothes. I also grab a couple of suits (I need to work) and my laptop and phone’s charger. I also put my wallet, car keys and house keys into my pockets. 

With one last look to the house we’ve shared for four years, I turn off the lights, grab my coat and double lock the door.

I don’t dare leave a note. Let Snow figure things out on his own.

 

I check into a hotel right in the centre of London. It’s very close to where I work. I leave the tab open because frankly, I don’t know how long I’ll be here. Fiona sold her apartment a couple of years ago, and I’m not about to run to Hampshire just because we had a row. 

It’s not like I’m divorcing him or whatever. I don’t believe in divorce, actually. It sounds all moppy and corny, but I do believe marriage is forever. 

This is so all unprecedented though, I don’t know what I’m doing at this point. I just know I can’t bear to sleep right next to him tonight. I can’t stay and hear some weak explanation about what supposedly happened between him and Dan.

The first couple of calls come around 10 p.m. I don’t dare answer any of them, but I don’t ignore them either. I just let my phone ring endlessly. It feels like I’m digging a bigger hole with every single ring, but I can’t face him just yet.

He sends a couple of texts, which I do read.

10:13 p.m. SSP: Babe, where are u???

10:17 p.m. SSP: Are you coming home tonight?? I brought food.

10:25 p.m. SSP: Pick up the phone for me, babe  

10:27 p.m. SSP: baz

10:27 p.m. SSP: Baz, please  
10:27 p.m. SSP: Are you leaving me????

10:30 p.m. SSP: Please come home x 

10:44 p.m. SSP: baz, at least let me know you’re safe tonight. I’m worried sick

I don’t know why, but that one breaks something in me. It’s just so like Simon to care about my wellbeing, even though by this moment he pretty much has figured out I walked out on him. 

10:56 p.m. BGP: I’m fine, Snow. Go to sleep.

This only spurs him to call more insistently and I end up shutting off my phone. For good measure, I put it inside the desk drawer across the hotel bed. 

I toss and turn all night. Dreaming about him. Picturing Dan’s lips all over his face. Picturing him wearing my shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I hope you're enjoying this little storyy!! I just couldn't get it out of my head and had to give it a shot at writing it.
> 
> Also: Writing Baz's voice is very difficult!! (but he's still my favourite character that has ever been written.


	3. Woke up alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m about to say no, thank you very much, when he whispers, “Please?”  
> He says it like a question, and I wait a couple of seconds. 
> 
> “It’s fine if you want to. You don’t have to, though.” I try to sound nonchalant, but he can read me better than anyone else, even through the phone.
> 
> I can almost hear his stupid smile when he says, “Same time as ever?”
> 
> “Yes.”

_Baz_

I wake up alone, in this hotel room. I wake so suddenly, I’m sure I was having a nightmare. Great. Merlin. I’m freezing and sweating at the same time.

I look at the bedside alarm clock and it reads 6:05 am. Since when do I wake up this early? I stare at the ceiling for a bit and try to make sense of what happened yesterday. It’s so foreign to us, fighting like this. Not sleeping together. 

It’s been so long since we’ve shared a bed, I’m not sure I’ll be able to bear it anymore. The generic bleach smell in the hotel’s sheets isn’t helping either. I turn on my phone and ignore all my notifications. Especially the ones from Snow’s missed calls and text messages. I decide to open Instagram and start looking through a few of my acquaintance’s stories. There’s one from Simon and I almost don’t watch it, but since I have no control, I do. It’s his hand, holding a coffee cup (no sugar, no milk) placed strategically on top of his desk. I spot it right away, between his mess of papers and books. Just to the right, there’s a framed photo of us, looking at each other at the altar. He drew a heart over it. Just below, the text reads: 10 days <3

Of fucking course, he had to. The message is loud and clear: I’m thinking about us. It’s 10 days to our 3 year wedding anniversary and he’s just making this, not so very subtle statement about it. Almost reminding me. Like I could ever forget the day my ultimate teenage fantasy became true. Like I could ever imagine not loving him.

I feel myself choking up a bit and decide to be irresponsible, because Crowley. I can, and I’m allowed to. I stand up, and attack the minibar, pouring myself a couple of drinks… for good measure. I let the cold liquor go down my throat while I listen to the entirety of Chopin’s Nocturnes. 

_I've never felt less cool._

By noon, I’m so gone I’ve forgotten why I started this.

 

_Simon_

As soon as I realize Baz left, I feel a voice inside my head say: “I told you so.” It’s just like my luck for my husband to walk out on me and (possibly) divorce me. He and I never have had a conversation about that because well, we never thought it would be necessary. We said we’d never think about an ending, but now I’m starting to wonder if Baz’s pride is stronger than his feelings toward me and he’s actually never going to let me explain myself.

I open up my phone and text Penny the photo Baz showed me earlier, and type below:

12:06 am. S.S.P: Pen I’m freakign

12:06 a.m. S.S.P: He saw this and literally bolted

12:06 a.m. S.S.P: baz thinks I’ve cheated on him

I’m just in the middle of typing another message when a call from Penny herself comes in:

Her voice comes in through the speaker, louder than necessary. “Simon, what?? I thought you guys were in your honeymoon phase still” 

I sigh. “Penny, does the photo look compromising to you?” I hear her hesitate on the phone. One, two seconds go by and I can tell she’s looking at it. “I don’t know, Si. It doesn’t look very professional, that’s all that I can say about that.” She exhales and asks “How did it even happen?”

“Penny, we were literally told to pose in front of the Ballroom and whatever, then we all put our arms behind each other’s back’s, just to pose. I didn’t even notice his hands were, well like that.” Penny snorts from the other side of the phone and I hear her taking a sip from her bedtime tea. She lives for it. “Right when they were about to take the photos, he mumbled something, and I couldn’t hear him. I looked at him and smiled, hoping it wasn’t a question.” I lean back on his pillow and close my eyes just to see Baz’s wounded face, right when he showed me the picture. 

“Si, this is so dumb. I can’t believe Basil actually thinks you would ever cheat on him-“ I cut her off. “There’s something else. Dan asked me for something to borrow so he could travel comfortably, and I didn’t think it would be a big deal to lend him one of the band ones.” There’s a little pause and then her voice booms through the phone.

“The ones which were, you know, your husband’s?” Penny sounds somewhere between exasperated and amused. “Crowley, Simon what was going through your head? Of course he’s going to think you cheated on him If your coworker comes back wearing your clothes” I can feel the whole puzzle getting together in my head and this just makes me want to cry more. If Baz had gone away and done the same, I’m pretty sure I’d have been pretty devastated.

“Penny, I swear nothing happened. The whole time I was thinking how I wished Baz had come with me. I don’t know how to apologize. He won’t hear anything I say.” I say between sniffs and small sobs. 

Penny sighs and she speaks softly into the phone “Si, I don’t think Baz is going to let you explain yourself soon. He goes all the way into his head.

You could, you know, try to be present in his mind. I’m sure he’ll miss you enough to come back.”

I sniffle a little and rub my nose with my sleeve before saying: “Pen, do you think this is over? Like do you think he’s going to divorce me? Cause like it’s been so short and I -“ Penny is cackling on the other side of the phone and it pisses me off a little. Seriously?

“Simon” She says between giggles. “Baz won’t ever leave you. The git told me before proposing he believed marriage was an unbreakable bond. You can’t seriously think this is the end every time you guys fight. 

Even if it’s something serious, you can work it out. You know why, Si? Because you didn’t actually cheat on him. This is all caused by miscommunication” 

Suddenly, I release a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. My chest feels lighter than it has, well, since I stepped into that airport.

That night, after calling him endlessly and religiously studying, I shower and toss and turn on his side of the bed, trying to find ideas on how to get my husband back. 

I fall asleep just after 3 am, feeling soothed by his smell on the bedsheets.

I call all Sunday but I get no reply. I feel pretty shit and my focus is pretty much nonexistent. My magic is buzzing all day like crazy. I don’t know where he went and there’s no way to track him because, well, how does one even find someone in London? I’ve lost my touch in stalking him since I stopped doing it in Watford.

After I shower, I text him once more.

10:06 pm. S.S.P: lunch tomorrow yeah?  
10:06 pm. S.S.P: x x

It’s dumb and he’s probably not going to answer but we have this tradition where on Monday’s I pack him lunch and drop it off at his office on my way to work. I usually get in later, at around 11 (because I get off really late) but he gets in at 8. It all started because he kept bitching there was nothing near his office to eat (and he also never eats in front of his coworkers) and he didn’t like to carry around a lunch bag or whatever. He’d come home at 8 p.m., starved and murderous. 

I cook a lot (Baz can’t to save his life) and Merlin knows I have to pack like 4 different meals for me to eat at the Hospital, so one day I packed an extra one and just went up to his office, dropped the bag at his desk, kissed his cheek and left for the hospital.

It’s been our thing since then. He loves it. Never says it but I can see how his eyes go all soft when he sees me come in through the door.

I nearly fall off my chair when my phone rings and his face is on the screen. I answer on the first ring.

 

 _Baz_  
I don’t know why I’m calling but I’m weak and I want to hear his voice. I’ve been tempted to come home all day but, fuck, between being drunk and hungover today, I’ve solved nothing. 

“Snow” I say softly into the phone.  
“Babe, come home. Please.” I can tell he’s about to cry because he’s all breathy and his voice is wobbly.

_Simon, what have you done to us?_

“I just-. Look Simon, I don’t feel ready. I don’t know how to wrap my head around what happened.” I say. It comes out rushed and It hurts to say it.

“Baz, let me explain. Nothing happen-“ I talk over him because I can’t hear it. “Snow it’s fine. I can’t right now.”

“Why did you call then? Listen to me” He says, a little more forcefully. I sigh and almost inaudibly, I whisper “I wanted to hear your voice.”

I know he heard me because of the way his breathing changes.

“I want to see you. Kiss you. I’m going crazy Baz. Let me bring you lunch tomorrow, yeah?” He’s making it really hard between his wobbly voice and his offer.

Of course, it’s in him to feed me even when I’ve disappeared for a whole weekend. I never thought I could have this. The domestic part of life. Someone loving me enough to worry if I’ve eaten at all.

I’m about to say no, thank you very much, when he whispers, “Please?”  
He says it like a question, and I wait a couple of seconds. 

“It’s fine if you want to. You don’t have to, though.” I try to sound nonchalant, but he can read me better than anyone else, even through the phone.

I can almost hear his stupid smile when he says, “Same time as ever?”

“Yes.”

The line goes silent and It’s obvious neither of us wants to hang up but inspiration has run dry. Right now, things feel very fragile and I don’t know what to say.

Snow, stupidly brave as ever speaks first. “Baz, are you leaving me?”

_“No.”_

Are we going to play 20 questions?

“Was It because I haven’t been home much?” I say, letting my insecurities speak for me.

“Baz, I didn’t do anything. I’m at work just as much as you are.” He’s crying now. He waits a little. I don’t dare make a sound. “Do you want me to wear my ring where it should be? If it means that much to you, I will.” I take a minute or two to think this through. 

Ever since we got married, we agreed he’d wear his ring on his middle finger, on his right hand. It’s not where it’s supposed to go, and I actually wear it where it should be. But he doesn’t because Consultants (basically, the doctors who are in charge of his degree) (So they own his ass) tend to snub married doctors. It’s patronizing, but they think they won’t be focused on their careers but on having kids and forming a family. Not a good asset to the Health Care System. Now imagine being married and _gay_. The British System is conservative on itself. We just didn’t want to make it worse.

I think it’s pretty stupid, but I know how much being respected in his field means to Snow. Now I’m actually starting to wonder if it bothers me more than I allow myself to think about.

“It’s just-Snow-things don’t have to be harder for you. I just wish everyone knew you’re off the table.” I try to explain but I realize I sound like a caveman. If Father could hear me. “Look, it’s fine. You don’t need to. We know what we are.”

“I’ll do it for you, yeah? You and me, forevermore, Baz. It’s there on the contract.” My lip quivers a bit at this. Merlin, he’s making me feel soft.

I lean all the way back into the bed and close my eyes. I dare to imagine him here, warming me up with all his stupid body heat. “It’s not about the paper, Snow. It’s about what we are right now.” 

“I love you.” Simon says, his voice clear through my phone’s speaker.

I know I should stop pushing but I can’t.

“Was it the sex?” He gasps a little, and I can tell I’ve surprised him. “Can you even hear yourself?” He replies, and he sounds sad. Disappointed. I feel ashamed as I say, “Look, Snow. I’m obviously not in a good mindset right now. We’ll talk about this later.”

“Come home tomorrow?” he asks, hopeful. I bite my lip. “Maybe.” 

“Baz?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” I don’t reply but I know he can feel me smiling through the phone.

“Sleep well, Simon.” With that, I hang up the phone, and for the first time in 3 days, I sleep peacefully. Knowing that maybe, this can be fixed.

 

The next morning goes by in a blur. I get dressed, shower and go to work. The whole time I’m all jumpy and I keep checking my phone to see if Snow is actually going to come. I keep pacing around my office like a caged animal. To be fair my office _is_ very small, because I’m not anyone’s boss. Still, it’s nice to have privacy and my own space without having to chat all the time with my coworkers. I don’t mind them but I’m not the type to ask about their weekend.

I manage to get most of my work done, anyway. I can be anything but inefficient. I’m not the youngest junior consultant in this building for no reason. At around 11, I startle when Simon texts me. I open it and it reads: “I’m going up.”

I literally make a run for the bathroom. I know this is very childish, but Crowley, I don’t want to face him. I wait for a bit and don’t reply. About 15 minutes later, I come out and go into my office. Snow’s obviously gone. I close the door in case I might need a minute. 

Sitting atop of my black wood desk there’s a brown paper bag.  
I open it and inside there’s a roast beef sandwich, a little apple and inside a small glass container there are two Blueberry jam-filled pastry pockets. My favourite. They’re a bit odd shaped and this only confirms Snow made these. Just for me, I think. There’s a little post-it note as well which says (in his illegible penmanship) “I love you. SSP”

I hadn’t spotted it, but just to the left, there’s a large Pumpkin Mocha Breve. I know this is something innocent, but it overwhelms me to the point I want to run to Snow, take his head between my hands and kiss his pretty mouth. He’s so sweet. Not only did he make (from scratch, mind you. Snow’s a food snob now) my favourite foods, but he went all the way to the Café to buy my drink of choice. I haven’t had one of these in a while because we moved a bit far away from the place where they make them.

I take a drink and it tastes like college. Like when he used to share a flat with Bunce and I’d spend good money on these every day. Like when Snow and I used to have our study dates there. I revel in the goodness of it. Every bite of the food tastes like love. Which is a weird thing to say. But I can feel the care and time he put into this. Fuck, he probably slept so little just for this.

Still, despite my heart that aches for him, my head is still telling me this is an “I’m-sorry-I-slept-with-my-coworker gift.” I ignore it for now and send him a text message.  
11: 43 a.m. BGP: Snow, thank you. I feel…touched.

He doesn’t reply and I figure he must be at work by now, so I go back to my work and thinking about my sweet, stupid, husband. Returning the romantic gesture gets the best of me and I can’t help but upload a photo of the whole spread I took before tucking in, to my Instagram story. There we were, when we left Watford, thinking I would never use social media, but it grew a bit on me. 

I pick a quick filter and write: You outdid yourself, Snow.

_Who says romance is dead?_

Bunce replies to my story with: ????????? Fiona sends a vomiting emoji. Agatha sends a heart eyes face.

My phone pings a while later. 

3:32 p.m. S.S.P: I made more pastries  
3:35 pm. S.S.P: You can only get them if you come home though

I laugh at this and feel a little pang in my chest. Where my dead heart sits. 

4:01 pm. B.G.P: I’m thinking of you x.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! I hope you're all sleeping well and drinking water!!  
> Finally an update. It took me a while to decide where I wanted to go with this story. I'm trying to navigate between their unconditional love and their own insecurities. Also, I wanted to write sort of a fight where they're both trying to be mature but still showing their irrational sides.
> 
> I hope you like it. I'm kinda happy with how it turned out. Your comments and kudos make me smile a lot!!
> 
> love,  
> MP


	4. Maybe one day you'll call me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As we’re going up the elevator, I clear my throat. “No funny business, Snow. Don’t even try.” 
> 
> He snorts and looks up at the ceiling, shrugging while he runs his hands over my forearm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T HATE ME! I had to do it!! 
> 
> A big fight was necessary!! I also decided to add one more chapter, because I was trying to cram so much into four chapters.
> 
> We hit 10,000 words!!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. Comments and kudos make me happy!! Thank you!
> 
> -MP

_Baz_

Monday afternoon rolls around and I don’t go home. Now I’m truly feeling Simon’s absence, but I have a Coven’s meeting anyway, and they usually end after midnight. Sometimes he does come with me, but only if he’s free or feeling up to it. I leave work and I have a couple of hours to kill, so I decide to stop by at the house, just, you know. To check up on the cat. 

It’s not surprising to find Simon is not home, because he gets off late on Mondays. I park just outside of the apartment building. It’s really not that big of a complex. There are only six apartments, one per floor and we live at the top one. We actually don’t own it because we’re still looking for our ‘forever home’. It was pretty clear to us from the beginning we weren’t interested in a house like mine at Hampshire (not that we’d need it, anyway) but the idea of Simon getting to have his own house still thrills me. 

I can see the way his blue eyes light up, filled with curiosity and excitement at the idea of having somewhere permanent to live in. Because growing up between 10 different boy’s homes really does change your way of admiring property. Even though I did live in a permanent house for all of my childhood and adolescence, I still longed for a home. Somewhere that felt more lived in and less like a museum.

I open the door and it’s eerily empty and quiet. It feels like it was ages ago since I was here. There are a few dishes in the sink and I can’t help myself but do them. It’s our agreement. He cooks, and I do the dishes. On the countertop, there’s a big glass jar and it’s full of pastries. 

So, he did not lie. Interesting. I open the lid carefully, taking only one and returning it to its exact original position. I go to our shared office and on my side, there’s my violin. It’s sitting in its case, immaculate as ever. It obviously wasn’t necessary for me to take it with me. _I’m not leaving permanently_ , after all. I open the window and let the air and sunset fill up the room. It’s getting dark outside but I still can see the sun’s shadow setting into the horizon.

I can’t help but sit down to play for a bit. It’s so quiet in here when Simon’s not around. There’s always the rustling of his papers moving, the tapping of his pencil against the desk, his music playing through his laptop. He spends a lot of time here, studying and going through his notes.

I take my bow and place my violin on my shoulder, positioning it carefully. Years of practice have made me an expert. When I play, I don’t think. I’m nobody’s son, nobody’s husband. I’m not a mage. I’m just Baz. The music and I become one, and as I close my eyes, I let my hands do the work while my mind escapes me.

I get so sentimental, playing one of Snow’s favourite pieces that I don’t realize tears are rolling softly down my cheeks until I open my eyes. Crowley, it’s embarrassing. I haven’t cried while playing since we found out who killed my mother. I’m still pretty on the dark about what happened between Simon and Dan, but I’m pretty torn.

On one side, I want to listen to Snow, believe him, come home. The other half of my heart is telling me that this is it. This was too good to be true. Simon finally realized there’s more to life than dating a vampire. Someone who’s already dead. Someone who, you know, tried to kill him during his youth. I got to have my fair share of Snow. I got to hold him in my arms and he held me night after night for 8 years. I loved him every single day, from the first time we ever kissed. It was always real for me.

Of course, I blame me. If he actually did sleep with Dan, it wouldn’t surprise me. My selfish ways, always taking from him, I take and take to feel alive. This might have pushed him to find someone who could show more. Someone who understood his profession better, someone whose family could treat him like a Son. Someone who didn’t sneer and tease all the time. Whatever he might find in him, I’m fucking sure he could never find someone who loved him more than I do. I’m disturbed and dramatic, but I would literally fucking die for Simon. I am his and I would lay the world at his feet just to make him happy, so if happiness is being with someone else, I’d be willing to oblige. Even though this might kill me, I’d do it to see him living life fully. If letting go is what he needs, then I will do so.

I guess the only way to find this out, is to ask. 

But I also, as strange as it sounds, _know_ that he loves me. He shows me every day, when he kisses me every morning, when he texts me random stuff throughout the day, when he comes with me to my family’s events.

I look at my watch and the time startles me: 9:23. I’ve been here for forever and I need to leave right now to make it to the meeting.

I scrape by, but I still get there 5 minutes before it starts. It’s held in a different location every week and this time is at one of the Grimm’s houses. Not very close to my family, though. I think they’re Father’s cousins, even though frankly, I don’t remember, and I don’t care. I greet everyone politely, keeping my face neutral, not showing any emotion. I’m sitting on the furthest end of the table, just by the window when my father comes in and shakes my hand. He’s never been one for small talk, but we still see each other at least every week.

He looks at me up and down, like he’s sizing me up. “Basilton. Everything alright?” 

“Yes. It’s been a long day.” I know he’s not buying it, but he doesn’t prod me at all. We don’t talk about things if it’s not necessary.

“Where’s your, um, Snow?” He’s avoiding my eyes by looking out the window but I know he cares about us. “He couldn’t make it.” That’s all I say. He looks at me and waits a couple of seconds, his expression blank. When I don’t say anything, he sits down next to me and waits silently for the meeting to begin.

Me joining the Coven wasn’t much of a discussion because there are a few things about my identity and my family that I could never give up. Like my last name, for example. My mother was an active member and she would have appreciated me joining it. Also, it’s interesting to see the way mages handle things now that there isn’t a permanent threat to the families or the world of Mages, generally speaking. Penelope’s mum is still in charge of Watford and she has been doing an excellent job at it. It’s not surprising at all.

Simon is actually a member of the Coven as well. By association. If you marry a member, you become one. But just because he’s in it, it doesn’t mean he cares about it or gives any input. Whenever he comes, people still look at us differently, and to be fair, there’s a lot to look at.  
First, there’s the fact that he is very much still The Chosen One. He never uses that title anymore and I think he cringes a little when they call him that. They only do it here, though. He killed the Mage AND the humdrum, so I can tell where the appeal comes from. The fact that he was the most powerful magician who has ever lived is well, hot to me. It’s disturbing, I know. I used to think about that during the part of Eight year when we lived apart and I’d get off on knowing the way his magic felt on my skin. The way it didn’t affect me as much as it did everyone else. 

Secondly, he’s well, married to me, and even though it was a very quiet affair and literally nobody in this room except for my close family has seen a picture of the wedding, people are very curious about it. We’re very prim and proper here, there’s never any displays of affection, but they still stare, to see if something escapes us.  


Third, he’s stunning. Okay, maybe that’s only one of my personal reasons. But he’s very composed now. He grew out a bit out of his clumsiness and now that he dresses really well, he looks very different from the scrawny kid wearing trackies everywhere.  


Snow’s loaded, by the way. People think we have a sort of arrangement where I pay for everything and he looks pretty but that’s not the case at all. As if he’d let me do that. I would, by the way. About a year after the Mage died, Simon’s grandmother came looking for him. She found out he was his grandson just by looking at his photo alone. It was later confirmed by Mitali. His mum was Lucy Salisbury, and they come from one of the families as well. Turns out Lucy, Fiona, Penny’s mum, and Ebb went to Watford together. So, Lucy’s family was wealthy, and Snow was lucky enough to be the only heir. A while later, his grandmother died and left him a name and a couple of million pounds.

In case you were wondering, I still could buy Snow twice with my inheritance and he still has no class. (Ask anyone). But I think it helped level things out between us. Not because I cared but because Simon was so uncomfortable when I would spend money on him it became something we’d fight about. (It was also a miracle because now Simon could afford University).

I spend the whole meeting thinking about him and nodding or shaking my head whenever it seemed necessary while they went on and on about taxes and reforming some of Watford’s courses. I promise myself next week, if things are better, I’d actually look into it and give a helpful opinion. By midnight, everyone starts going home and I’m not thrilled to go to my hotel room but I guess that’s all there’s to me.

I open the heavy front door and step out into the freezing night, shivering a bit. I’m perpetually cold. 

Just as I’m approaching my car, I smell his magic but he’s on me before I can talk. I could easily push him off but _I don’t want to._ He slams me back into the side of the house, right underneath a window and there’s only a small garden here. He’s kissing me fast, rough. This is not calculated or sweet. This is longing. It’s been a good minute and he’s starting to deepen the kiss, but I pull back. I stare at his blue eyes.

He’s looking at me with his mouth open, trying to read me. I keep my eyes on his. And then he just whispers, “You were home.”

“Yes.” And softer, I say “Don’t look too much into it, Simon. I needed clothes”

He deflates, and his lips get all pouty while he grabs my face with his hands and tries to kiss me once more. I don’t let him, turning my face a bit to the side and placing my hands over his. His eyes fill with tears and he looks like he might scream there and then. “Crowley. Baz, let’s go somewhere to talk, yeah?”

I sigh and drop my hands, taking his own with mine. “Okay. Just, not home. Is that alright?” Of course, he didn’t bring his car so we end up at my hotel. As we’re going up the elevator, I clear my throat. “No funny business, Snow. Don’t even try.” 

He snorts and looks up at the ceiling, shrugging while he runs his hands over my forearm. Still, as soon as we enter my room he grabs my face and he’s using his best tricks to get me into bed. He’s all slow, warm kisses and slow hands. I’m all sensation and no thinking right now. This feels even better than it always does. Maybe because we haven’t been like this in a while. Maybe because I’ve missed him. 

I don’t protest and snog him senseless until I’m leaning against the closet door, halfway to being naked and he drops to his knees. 

Yes. 

I see him through half closed lids and my brain turns on and goes into overdrive. This is not love. _This is guilt._ He’s doing this because he wants me home. _He hasn’t even given a reasonable explanation, Basilton._

He’s undoing my belt and I keep seeing him like this, in front of Dan. This is so fucking stupid, but I can’t stop picturing them. Just like this, in the dark, in a hotel room. Hundreds of kilometres from here. “Stop. Simon. Stop.” His hands slow and I pull him to his feet.

“Did I hurt you?” He says, not looking at me. Shit. “Because like it’s okay if you don’t want me anymore but I thought you might-“ I go soft and I’m blushing like a schoolboy because the whole situation is embarrassing, but I can’t bear to share something like this with him right now. 

“It’s okay. I just can’t right now. I keep imagining what happened there and-“ He’s all disheveled, lips swollen from all the kissing, but then I see he’s actually crying and he something inside him snaps.

“For fucks sake, Baz! Nothing happened. I’ve told you and told you! But if you think so low of me then-“ I cut him off. “For someone who hasn’t given any explanation, you’re very brave, Simon.” His face is red and his magic is everywhere, so he sits down in the bed, running his hands through his curls. It’s only now that I notice he’s still in his black scrubs. He probably went straight to the meeting after work.

“What do you want me to say? I’ve been trying to explain to you that I did not cheat on you. The photo was ONE -he punches his finger into my chest. I grab his hand- second from the whole damned trip and they chose to publish that.” I snort and look at him coldly. 

“Imagine what I missed then, Simon.” He snatches his hand from mine and speaks calmer. “Nothing happened because I was working. I was with everyone else in a group. Whether or not he likes me as more, I don’t care. I’m with you. I signed up for this.”

Something inside my head is telling me to stop but the part of me who’s always been skeptical speaks. “That’s why your phone was off the whole night of the ball, right? Because you were working?” I smirk sarcastically and it’s like we’re teenagers all over again. Except we’d never get physical now. That’s domestic violence. He looks like I’ve slapped him.

“I can't believe you’d ever think of me like this. Like I’d fuck anyone who offers it up. You know what?” He stands up and starts walking toward the door. My feet seem to be glued to the carpet. Simon turns around and faces me, looking hurt and places his hand on the doorknob. “If that’s what you’re always gonna think of me, maybe you should consider getting a grip on yourself. Or a divorce. Because I’d never be with someone who doesn’t trust me.” With that, he leaves, closing the door softly behind him. He’d never slam it in my face. I feel like he did. 

_Merlin, why am I such a prick?_

It took me to get to this point so I could see how wrong I was. How much he loves me and would never fail me.

I call this time, but he doesn’t answer.

I go hunting around the Thames. It’s after midnight, anyway. There are just rats but they will do. I shower and get into bed. I don’t even bother with dinner. The blood’s enough. I’m not sure I could stomach anything else either.

I feel worse than I’ve ever felt my whole life. I open Facebook on my phone and go to his profile. He’s untagged himself from the photo. _Fuck_. He’s also just shared a video. It’s a Harry Styles song. One of our favourites. The whole album is brilliant, anyway. It’s kind of our album. Last spring, we listened to it nonstop.

The song is called “From the Dining Table.” On top on the post, where he shared it he wrote (in between musical note emojis) :

“Maybe one day you’ll call me, 

…and tell me that you’re sorry too. 

But you, 

you never do.” 

It stings and for the third time today I find myself crying. I love him, I love him, I love him. Of course he would. His message again is clear.

I cry until I fall asleep. Somewhere in the middle of my desperation, I realize it’s now my time to make it right. Not to get a divorce. This is not broken. This can and _will_ be fixed.


	5. You always do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I smile and feel a thousand times calmer than I have felt since he first went away. There’s obviously so much more to be said, a fight to be had, but I think right now, we’re missing each other so badly, we need this moment of calm. Right now, this is enough."

_Baz_

I wake up alone once more, but this time I have an immense headache. My eyes are all shut small from all the crying. I look a proper mess. 

I take a cold shower and pack all my stuff neatly back into my duffel bag, after I sort everything out, I go to my car and turn on the radio. Taylor Swift’s song “Delicate” comes blaring through the speakers. Crowley. It’s embarrassing that I find myself singing along to it even though I’m here alone.  
I can’t help it, though, her lyrics just…get me. I know well that it’s sort of odd between my usual music taste, but I like it. Only Snow knows, though.

The song playing sort of has a sad but hopeful undertone and It fits me just right. While I don’t think we’re breaking up, I feel a bit panicky. Simon and I have never, ever fought like this. Maybe I should have called in advance, to see if he would take me back home. I glance at the small clock placed on the dashboard and it’s only 6:43 in the morning. Snow gets in today at the same time as I do. 8 a.m. There’s a high possibility he’ll be home, probably still sleeping. It takes me about 20 more minutes to get home and when I do, his car is still parked there. Good.

When I get up there, it shocks me to find Snow’s not home. His phone IS on the kitchen table but he’s nowhere to be found. In the room, the bed is unmade on my side. I can’t help but feel a bit warmer on the inside. He’s missed me. I leave my suitcase just by the closet doors and I place my laptop and chargers on my bedside table, just where they always are. The bathroom still feels warm from his shower when I place my toiletries back there, and a thought pops into my head.

He took the tube to work, to avoid using the car Father bought him. That’s why he left earlier than usual. I close my eyes and snort. It’s just like Simon to do that. I picture him squeezing between the crowd and feel a little pang of guilt in my chest. _You caused this._

I go into the kitchen and find myself making some tea. It feels good to be back home, doing mundane stuff like this, even using my own mug. But at the same time, I feel like an intruder. 

Simon Snow made this apartment a home with all his cooking and hanging pictures all over the place. With his white coat draped on the back of the couch, which is the most reliable indicator that he’s home. His notes, always scattered on the kitchen table, his messy writing on notepads and sticky notes on the fridge. These little things make the place feel more like his and less like mine. I merely inhabit in the whole Universe that Snow created. Everything else revolves around him, just like it did when all I could do was pin after him. Except now I get to participate in it. I get to explore it and change it just like I’ve always wanted.

I take a couple of pastries and put them in a white, porcelain plate. Vera would kill me if we used plastic plates. Snow says it’s unnecessary to use fine china every day, but I don’t mind. Somehow it makes meals feel more put together and less like we’re still at Uni. A small ping startles me and I realise it comes from his phone, which is here, forgotten on the table. The small screen lights up and right away I can see he was listening to “Love on the Brain” by Rihanna. A couple of the lines of the song come to mind. “What do I gotta do to get in your motherfucking heart?” _You are my heart, idiot._ and “It beats me black and blue, but it fucks me so good and I can’t get enough” _Interesting._ I decide to file this into the things I’ll try to ask him about later. 

Underneath the music app, there’s a couple of message notifications and I grab the phone. Unfortunately, we saved each other’s fingerprint to unlock our phone’s along with our own and I press accidentally and it unlocks. Crowley. Now the messaging app is open, and I can’t help but look at the chat that’s on top.  
My stomach drops to the floor.

7:14 a.m. Dan B: Can you come down to 605 to check on the patient’s status

Obviously, there’s no reply because Simon isn’t the one reading it. I’m frozen. But at least it’s nothing suggestive or implying something else. It’s just a work text. Fuck it, If I’m already snooping around, might as well check the whole chat. Snow never deletes them. I’m sure he still has the messages we’ve sent each other since I was still at Watford. Embarrassing.

There are a few from yesterday about patients and retrieving someone’s file and whatnot. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a couple jump at me. They’re from Monday afternoon… 

3:06 p.m. Dan B: Why are you not at your assigned office?  
3:07 p.m. S.S.P: I got assigned to another floor. I’m sorry.  
3:08 p.m. Dan B: Why?  
3:23 p.m. S.S.P: I’m under doctor Schultz now, still on the same group of residents, though

I stop reading after that, leave his phone where it was and feel like a complete asshole. He actually had to go through the whole ordeal of talking to his superiors and sitting through a meeting to decide whether or not they could change him. For me. He did this because he thought that’s what I’d want. I didn’t expect him to, to be honest. We draw a line at requests where work begins. Merlin knows I take this very seriously and I’d never ask that from Simon. This man deserves a husband of the year award. 

And there I was, thinking he was being unfaithful. I slap my forehead a couple of times, audibly. Just for good measure. I’m so pissed off at myself I don’t even know how to apologize. I suppose I have a whole day to figure this out. Right now I need to go to work, and I’m already going to be late. My little “investigating” session made me late and sad.

The whole day at the office I’m brooding and my head is everywhere but at the numbers in front of my screen.  
A bit after noon, my cousin, cook Pitchard delivers personally me the box of 12 cherry scones I requested for my get-Simon-Snow-Pitch-to- forgive-me-quest. I insist on paying with magickal money but she is adamant about not accepting it. I promise her a dinner with us instead. She actually cooked for our Wedding (Simon’s idea) and she loves him. We’ve never been close but I know she’s always tried to look out for me, being my only relative around when I was at Watford, I’m sure father had her keep an eye on me.

By the time I leave the office, I’m so worked up I light up a cigarette from the pack that sits permanently in the car. I don’t do it very often, but when I do, it’s a telltale sign that I’m about to combust. I use my wand but I do it discretely, in the empty parking lot. Once I’m done, I put it out and throw it in the trash. I head home and know Simon is home. I even worked a couple extra hours, kind of because I was stalling and because I wanted to be sure he would be back.  
Sure enough, when I open the door, he’s not visible but his music is playing and the whole house smells like tomatoes and garlic. Delicious.

I hang my coat and put my keys right next to his, and then proceed to take off my shoes, just like I always do. Except I don’t know if I’m actually staying. I notice with disinterest that his wedding ring is on the foyer table, next to his wallet. This all seems so trivial now, that I can’t bring myself to care.

I walk slowly towards the kitchen, but he can always hear me. He’s in his trackies, wearing an old black t shirt and slippers. He has his back to me, but as soon as I enter, he turns off the stove and turns around. Before he says whatever he was going to say, his eyes fly to the box I’m holding in my hands. It’s a rectangular box, just like the ones where they pack doughnuts, but it’s wrapped in brown paper (so he can’t guess) and it has a red bow on it. I even wrote a note. 

“What’s that?” He asks, eyeing it suspiciously.

“Hello, love, yes I’m good, work was good.” I say, sarcastically and he rolls his eyes. I look at his eyes. “They’re-um-for you, Simon. It’s okay if you don’t want them-“ 

But he’s already taking the box for me and looking at the note. 

In my neat cursive I wrote:

> _Simon Snow-Pitch:_  
>  Please take these as a peace offering. You may enjoy them even if we don’t work shit out.  
>  Your asshole husband 

__  
__  
-TBGP

He laughs and his eyes are a bit teary. “Is this your grand apology, Pitch?” 

I snort and walk closer to him. He is still near the stove, but his posture isn’t as tense.

“No, but I wanted to bring them to you, as a starter.” 

“Okay.” He places them on the table and rips the paper in seconds, saving the note in this pocket.

His face when he opens the box is priceless. I had forgotten how good it felt when I’m the one making him feel like this. He takes out one, and immediately bites it. He closes his eyes and throws his head back. 

“These are from Watford, aren’t they?”

“Yes,”  
“You actually had these made for me?” He drops it back on the box and walks toward me, once he’s close enough, he wraps his arms around my neck.

Fuck. I can’t believe I get to have this, again. He pulls back but keeps his hands on my shoulders.

“Yes, Simon. I figured you’d need an incentive. I was an asshole last-“ 

I’m about to start my monologue on what I did wrong, but he shuts me up with a small kiss on my mouth. He pulls apart quickly and frowns and my stomach drops. Maybe the kiss confirmed he doesn’t want me like that anymore. Maybe I put him off of me last night. My throat is starting to feel uncomfortable and I clear it.

“Baz, you taste like cigarettes. Did you start again?”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. Oh, so it’s just the taste in my mouth.

“No. I had one today because I was anxious, but no.” He looks into my eyes and I can tell he believes me.

“ _Darling._ ” Is all he says before he takes my face between his hands, kissing me. This isn’t anything like last night. This is slow and careful and full of emotion. I wrap my hands around his waist and hold him as close as possible.

It lasts a bit and then we’re all breathless and blushed, right in the middle of the kitchen. He lets go of me.

“Let’s have dinner, yeah? I’ve made us ravioli.”

I give him a small smile. “How did you know I was going to have dinner here?”

He looks at me and tilts his head to the side “Your suitcase, your bath stuff was everywhere where it should be. I figured it out.”

I smile and feel a thousand times calmer than I have felt since he first went away. There’s obviously so much more to be said, a fight to be had, but I think right now, we’re missing each other so badly, we need this moment of calm. Right now, this is enough. 

We have dinner in the small cramped kitchen instead of the dining table because apparently, Snow and I can’t seem to get closer tonight. We sit there and talk softly, with only the noise of our cutlery and glasses interrupting us once in a while.

I’m actually starved and also I need to drink. Blood, that is. I’ll probably just head out after dinner.

Once we’re done, Simon takes out another scone, pulls out the butter and jam from the fridge and starts preparing this as dessert, just like he used to at Watford. He seems so much calmer now and he’s talking about his patients and his upcoming exams. Our relationship already feels a little bit mended, even though we’re tiptoeing around the recent events.

I can’t help but marvel and how beautiful he looks, crumbles around his mouth and all. I take one of his hands. They’re actually very soft because he never fights anymore, and he takes care of them because of his line of work. Mine are rougher. I have got the fire thrower’s hands. We still practice magic a lot, it’s just right now, we’re too young to have a Magickal job, like teaching at Watford or working for the Coven. We’ll probably get one though, just when we’re older. At least I know I will. I don’t know if he’ll ever be ready, though.

Once we’re done, I start picking up the dishes, so I can wash them. He comes up behind me and places a kiss on my cheek. Right where my cheekbones start.  
“I’m going to be in our office, I'll check on some of my notes, okay?” He says tentatively.

I turn around and look at him. I don’t know whether he’s implying we should have “the talk” now, but I don’t think he’s trying to say that.

“Okay. I’ll finish this and go drink. Okay?” 

“Yeah, be careful.” He leaves me there to my own thoughts. I finish cleaning up the kitchen, put on my coat and go feed quickly. Using a spell, it doesn’t take me long at all. 

We should probably get more blood from the butcher, but it’s closer to where Simon works, and he’s the one who actually does the buying. I can’t bring myself to go there, just in case someone starts suspecting something. 

Once I come home, Snow’s sitting at his desk, wearing his glasses and reading through pages of his horrible handwriting. He looks so adorable like this, focused, oblivious to my creepy watching-him-work session. He realizes I’m there when I’m about five minutes in. I’m leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over my chest.

“You’re back.” 

“Yes,” I step into the office and sit down at my desk. I turn my chair around so I’m looking at him and he’s now facing me. We’re sitting so close our knees are actually touching, I look at him and I know it’s now or never.

“Babe, we should talk,” I say it softly, and he’s looking at me nervously. We’re kind of in the dark, the room only lit with his desk lamp.

“Look, Baz what’s done is done and I honestly don’t-“ 

“Simon, did you ask to be under another Consultant at the hospital?”

“How do you even know this?” I bite my tongue because I don’t want to admit I went through his stuff, but he continues putting one finger in the air “I don’t care. But I did.”

“I know why you did it, but you didn’t need to.” I grab one of his hands and start toying with his fingers, deliberately not looking at him.

“S’okay. I know you didn’t like me around Dan. But that’s not the whole thing. Sunday, when I was working, he came into my office and made a few comments that pissed me off.”

I close my eyes and start trying to visualize the sea or some shit because I’m not sure I want to hear it. _“Okay…”_

“He said he was going to throw a party to celebrate his birthday or whatever, and then he made a comment about how I could stay over because he had my shirt at his flat.”

“What the fuck” I drop his hand to place mine over my mouth and I can’t avoid looking like a schoolgirl who just heard the juiciest news. 

He smiles sheepishly and I can see he’s blushing. “Yeah, obviously it didn’t go well, and I told him I’d only expected a professional relationship from him. He got angry and said I’ve been sending him ‘mixed signals’ and left and that’s when I knew I had to do it.”

The only thing that comes out of my mouth, stupidly, is “You’re married.”

“Yeah,” he says and rolls his eyes. _“To you.”_

“What did you tell the board?”

“The same. That he’d been trying to hit on me for a while and it was uncomfortable. I might have thrown a few smiles here and there.”

“Okay.” I look into his eyes and they’re a pretty shade of blue under the dim light. “I’m sorry I was an asshole who didn’t believe you. I’m sorry I disrespected you. I’m sorry I went in over my head and didn’t listen to you”

My voice is shaking but I don’t realize I’m crying until reaches forward and wipes my tears with his hands.  
“I’m not mad. I love you. I thought you wouldn't come back. But you always do.”

Those feel like magickal words, they’re a spell and I’m instantly reassured. 

“I thought you had realized there’s more to life than me.” He snorts and now he’s leaning over my chair, holding me. 

“As if I would ever consider getting rid of you. I even changed my name for you. I’m sorry Pitch, but there’s no going back now. “ I know he’s joking but I still find the whole name thing romantic.

I know. I know. But’s just how it is in the Families. We have a way of being traditional about marriage. Except there’s nothing traditional about ours, because we’re…well, gay. Still, I didn’t want to miss out on the family traditions.

“I love you, absolute nightmare. I’m glad you didn’t leave me.” I say this as I stand up and hug him for real. I breathe in his scent and bury my nose in his curls. Once we’re apart, I grab his face between my hands and kiss him. It’s been so long since we’ve been together, I don’t think I can bear it for longer. 

Simon leads me to the bedroom, closing the door and attacking me just behind it. He’s kissing me everywhere and I’m just as urgent as he is, running my hands through the extension of his back. Recalling from memory the exact position of every single of his moles. Snow’s less careful about this. 

I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

We don’t bother closing the curtains or turning on the light. That night, we make sweet, sweet love under the pale moonlight. We take our time, rediscovering every part of each other that we love. It’s just us, no pressure, no real order or thought process, we’re just led by our own feelings.

By the time we’re done, it’s just after midnight. He spells us clean, and I let him. I’m too tired to move or care if he actually turns me into a whistle. He doesn’t. (Snow’s gotten good at pronouncing his spells, since he’s learned them again from me).

We get into bed and I hold him, spooning the way we always do. For the first time in a couple of years, we fall asleep naked. We’re usually more methodical after this, but right now everything feels fragile and magical, so we don’t bother putting on anything. 

Everything feels calm and silent and I’m warm all the way to my core. It seems so far away now, when a few days ago I thought I’d never get to sleep like this. My eyelids are very heavy, and by the time I hear him snoring, I’m also falling asleep to his heartbeat, happier than I’ve ever felt.  


I wake up to the sound of Simon’s ringtone. I look at my own phone and it’s just 4:49 a.m.

He sits up and answers groggily. I stare at his broad shoulders. I don’t try to move because I’m all warm from his own body heat, even when the window is still open.

“What? Um” He says into the receiver, and turns his head to the side, peering at me. “Can you start with the treatment? Yeah, okay, I’ll be there in a bit.” 

He hangs up his phone and turns to look at me.

“Babe, I’m sorry there’s an emergency with one of my kids and I really can’t-“ I rub his forearm and smile.

“It’s okay, Simon. _Carry on and save those kids for me._ ” I wink at him. He smiles, feeling relieved, I think, and kisses my forehead. “I love you,” I say as I close my eyes, once again. 

I fall asleep again to the sound of his shower coming through the open bathroom door, right in front of the bed. 

We’ll be just fine. We’ll carry on being _us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLYYY!! I can't believe I actually did it. I want to thank everyone who left kudos or commented! You really made me want to keep writing. 
> 
> I've already got a new idea about what I want to write next!! So keep an eye on it.
> 
> Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed this little fic.
> 
> Lots of love,
> 
> MP


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